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“The fun is over. Time to part ways, and your new home, new life if you make the trip without dying, begins in just a few hours. The sun has set, nighttime is upon us, and I can wash my hands of you and carry out my days knowing Ivan will suffer for the rest of his life. He’ll never have closure, never know where your body is. I win.” He said staring down at her.
“Whatever asshole. He will find you, and when he does, you’ll regret this. All of it.” She said and he lowered down and gripped her face. He pulled her up by her jaw and she cried out. She also saw the gun on his waist.
“You’re going to die, bitch. Dirty, disgusting men are going to rape you over and over again, and you won’t be able to fight them off. You won’t survive it. Ivan can’t save you. Ivan will die knowing his sweet, beautiful lover was violated over and over again. Oh, one last thing. The one who set that explosion and fire up in the store next to your parent’s storefront, wasn’t my brother. I did that. I was the one who killed your parents. I did it and got away with it, just as I will get away with killing you.” Her eyes widened, and somehow, that anger got the best of her.
With a last fight for something, for triumph, something, she moved her hands just as men started yelling. He went to stand up and she pulled him down on top of her, grabbed the gun. He lifted up, struck her and she fired it. He raged, and she fired again and again until Volkov lay on the ground dead. She shook, her vision blurred and she cried out, screamed in rage, in desperation knowing this was it that she was going to die because no one was coming for her.
The hope to stay alive dissipated with every shallow, stinging breath. She could hear the rattling in her chest, could sense her body giving up as she used up what little strength she had left. She was going to die. She killed the man responsible for her family’s deaths,
just as Ivan killed Kolikov for murdering his parents. It was over, and she gripped the gun. Knowing that the men would come kill her at any moment, she rolled over, pointed to the small doorway as men yelled in Russian outside of the old, metal door. There was gunfire, some kind of explosion that made her think they were in war.
“Pop, pop, pop.” A distinctive sound that had to be rapid gunfire.
Then more yelling and two men entered the room, shooting by the doorway. She knew they were men who worked for Volkov, men that beat her, touched her and put fear in her. One turned to look, and drew his gun toward her. She fired, hitting him in the chest, then fired again and hit him in the stomach. The other one turned, bullets hit the doorway from whomever was coming after them, but she knew it was do or die and she fired again. She hit him in the chest as well, he stumbled forward, angry, cursing and she fired again. He fell to the ground.
She coughed and couldn’t catch her breath, then closed her eyes trying to stop the dizziness. She heard more footsteps, tried to raise the gun but couldn’t.
“Annabella!”
She heard her name, could feel the presence around her, and fingers try to take the gun from her. “No.” She moaned and coughed.
“Annabella let Commerce take the gun. It’s Ivan. We’re all here. You did so good, my God you’re alive Lyubimaya. You fought so hard. What did they do to you? Commerce, look at her.”
“Ivan?” She whispered and forced her eyes open and locked gazes with him.
His dark grey eyes had tears in them. He was dressed in black. She blinked, felt like she would pass out as Commerce, Mirnon, Falcon and the others looked at her appearing grim, and sad. Ivan caressed her skin, and then she felt something cover her body.
She closed her eyes. “I love you Ivan… wanted to tell you one last time.” She said and couldn’t understand a word he said as darkness overtook her vision.
Chapter Fifteen
Ivan fell into the chair by Annabella’s bedside. Dante and Commerce were right there with him, as Victor went over her injuries and ensured him that Annabella wasn’t raped. The bruising, and finger marks along certain areas made them all fear the worst.
“Thank God.” Dante whispered and he reached over and caressed her hand.
She was unconscious still, medicated to help her sleep and remain calm. As she dozed off in exhaustion on their trip back to New York, she would wake up screaming and slapping away Ivan’s hands. Then he would calm her and she would whimper and moan then start coughing and it sounded horrible. She had a high fever, was fighting off some kind of bacterial infection Victor gave her antibiotics for, and she was malnourished and dehydrated. The I.V. was pumping fluids into her body as well as medication as needed. She was alive, and she killed Volkov, as well as two other men.
Commerce squeezed his shoulder. “It’s over, and you can move on with her, putting Volkov and the past behind you.”
“And when the next Volkov comes along, what do I do then?” he asked.
“There are no guarantees, cousin, however, the rampage you went on put a fear in many. The support, the gesture by the Kolikov family, handing over all money and investments of Volkov over to you and to Annabella, never mind their promise of respect to you both, should go a long way.” Dante said to Ivan.
“None of it mattered when she was gone, and taken because of me. None of the money, the power, it didn’t matter.”
“Of course it didn’t, because you love her, and she is yours and only yours. She will need you to recover, to get past the pain, the memories of her abduction. She won’t make it without you, Ivan. You can’t let her go.” Commerce said, as if reading his mind. Knowing that Ivan considered it.
Letting her go, still taking care of her financially, but not placing her in his world, in the danger that surrounds him every day of his life. It hurt deeply to imagine life without Annabella. It would hurt even more if he were the one who got her killed. How could he ask her to stay with him? To be his lover, his woman, after all she went through?
“Ivan?” Commerce said.
He raised his hand and gave a little wave. “Leave me now. Check on things at the club, at Makarov Defense & Security. Go.”
****
Annabella could hear the sounds of something beeping, then the pain all over her body. Tears leaked from her eyes, and she was shocked, because she had been so dehydrated that no tears would fall when she was held prisoner. She moved her lips, felt the cuts, and tried to stick her tongue out to moisten them, but then cringed. She opened her eyes, didn’t know where she was and turned slowly to the left. There sat Ivan, his head in his hands, elbows on his knees.
“Ivan.” Her voice cracked and ached, and she coughed. He jumped up, she moved her hand to cover her chest but the I.V. was in it.
